


D'oh, Woohoo! And Goodnight

by Magnavox_23



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Public Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnavox_23/pseuds/Magnavox_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can get a little chilly out there... in space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D'oh, Woohoo! And Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> It’s all RDA’s fault for when he was asked how he would want Jack O’Neill to die, said that he would like Jack to be found floating around in space…naked. Kudos to secretbutterfly for the beta.

Space isn’t as cold as he thought it would be. Sure, he’d had some experience before, in a death glider once upon a time, but here there are no barriers, no glass. Just the nothingness of space against his skin. 

All of his skin.

Mind you, it could be the fact that he’s dying as to why he can’t feel the cold, but there’s really no point in questioning that now. Jack never really considered himself that much of an exhibitionist, but floating out in space; naked; right now, he realised could be turning a few heads. 

He can imagine all the Jaffa in the Goa’uld mother ship he had just been beamed from with their hands and noses plastered to the windows, gawking at his saggy, white behind. Yeah, the gym had been left behind in his recent days, along with friends and adventures, and really, anything revolving around fun. Except for this latest occurrence. Looks like he’d finally had that one last blast after all…. As opposed to all the other ‘last blasts’ that always seemed to turn into something he actually survived. 

There are no images of his life, flashing before his eyes. Charlie’s smile is not around to greet him. There are no regrets; well not many, and no eleventh hour rescues from wayward ascendants…yet. If anything, his vision is fading. It’s getting harder to keep his eyes open, and the pain in his chest from lack of air has calmed to a muted throb.

The old adage ‘in space, no one can hear you scream’ flits shortly through his mind. Did he even _want_ to scream? Would that be capitulating in some way to the over dressed snake. The minor Goa’uld working for Ba’al, who had so gratuitously failed to even recognise him in the first place. Or would his subsequent suffering at the hands of his master for failing to hand over one of Ba’al’s most despised and hated enemies be worth it in the long run? 

Or was Jack just full of himself?

If the Goa’uld thought stripping him naked and getting all his Jaffa buddies to point and laugh would somehow break him, somehow shame him, terrify him so they could gain even one iota of pleasure from him, then they could think again. Please; he had seen the evil bred by humanity. Short of placing a snake in his own head, these guys were still on training wheels.

Jack knows his body is shutting down. The stars blur before his eyes, and he purses his lips in the knowledge that this is it.

He doesn’t see the white light surrounding him.


End file.
